A sharp ring cuts through the air.
The receptionist’s phone.
I jump like I’ve been electrocuted, my heart slamming into my ribs as if someone just read my thoughts out loud.
I cough. A dry, awkward sound that does nothing to clear the filth from my mind.
Focus.
Lila. Julian. The terms. The contract.
Not the way he’d look with his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up, pinning me to that desk, and—
I squeeze my eyes shut.
The receptionist murmurs something into the phone, then glances up at me.
“Mr. Belov will see you now.”
I exhale slowly.
Then I stand, smooth my blazer, and step toward the door.
Toward him.
28
Konstantin
Icould have scheduled to meet her anywhere. One of my penthouses, my estate on the outskirts of the city, even the restaurant I own downtown. Privacy and discretion are never in short supply when you own half the city. Yet I choose my office—my fortress.
Because this isn’t personal. This is business.
Except my body doesn’t seem to understand that.
Timur and Arseny are still in the room, but my attention isn’t on them. Not anymore. The moment she steps inside, I know.
She’s fire.
The last two days have been… interesting. I don’t allow uncertainty in my decisions, but Bella Marquez has made me weigh every angle twice. That’s the problem—there’s no other option that fits. I’ve looked. Considered. Examined every potential alternative with the same ruthless precision I use todismantle competitors. Any woman can wear the title of “wife.” But none of them are her.
Most of them were raised for luxury, for leisure—groomed to marry rich men and bear heirs, not raise them. None of them have fought for survival, clawed through life’s wreckage to keep a family intact. None of them have bled for the people they love.
Bella has.
That’s why she’s the right choice. She needs this, and she’s not someone who can just walk away or vanish when things get hard.
“Are we finished?” I ask, not bothering to look up from the documents spread across my desk.
Arseny shifts in his seat, a barely perceptible tightening around his eyes. “The increased security detail for your father has been arranged. Twice the usual number, all personally vetted by Timur.”
I lift my gaze to Timur, who stands by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the city skyline. The scar across his cheek catches the light when he turns.
“No one gets within fifty feet of thePakhanwithout my knowledge,” Timur says, his voice a low rumble. “I’ve installed our most loyal men. If someone is planning something, we’ll know.”
I tap my fingers against the smooth mahogany of my desk. “And the information leak?”
“Contained,” Timur answers, the word clipped. The meaning clear. Whoever spoke out of turn won’t be speaking again.
